What Do You Want?
by Aurora Magician
Summary: Rating is for violence, language, and adult themes later on. May change, not sure yet. CREWMEN are trapped in a cave-in. It's up 2 a mysterious woman to save them... IF she can survive.


What Do You Want?  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Crusade, it is property of JMS and Babylonian Productions. I do, however, own Saskia and the people you don't recognize at part of the show (i.e. Lazarus Hodgkins, IPX Idiot... you get the idea). R/R if you please... it's what keeps me writing, folks. Flamers who are unprofessional and non-constructive will have their flames spoon-fed back to them. Thank you.  
  
"What do you want?" "I want the truth." That's honest enough. "What is the truth?" I don't think I have an answer for that one. I'm not sure I even know what the truth is anymore. Me, myself, I just look at this hooded man of a techno-mage, not sure what to answer. Should I answer? Do I even have an answer to give him? "Whatever you make it out to be," I answer. The techno-mage nods his head. "What is this all about, Alwyn?" I ask. He just shrugs, and waves his hand. I guess I'm dismissed, so I go back to my little hole in the wall. I'm used to his enigmatic and cryptic ways by now. I see that I'm out of firewood, so I grab my cloak and lantern and head for the clearing near the Deadzone. Nobody except me dares to go near it, so I know that I'll have a continuous supply of good wood for a long time. Alwyn told me once that I would rescue a man with no dreams for life, and that I would know him when I stepped into that clearing and saw his shadow. Fat lot of good that's done me-- I've been there a dozen times and no Prince Charming-In-Need-Of-Rescue that I know of has been there. At least not while I was there-- maybe I missed him when I was chopping wood or the sun was overhead, obliterating his shadow. I don't know-- but I do know that Alwyn doesn't lie, so I have to be patient, and that is NOT one of my virtues. I've gotten down the path to the Deadzone, and the clearing is just ahead. Even though I know he's not going to be there, I still look just to make sure. I guess you could call me paranoid, but you wouldn't if you knew whom I was talking about. Then you'd probably be so scared you wouldn't turn the lights out for the rest of your life. I'm in the clearing, so I drop to one knee, and light my lantern. It's getting dark out, and the light is fading fast-- night falls swiftly here, like hail before the storm. The wind bites through my cloak-- even surrounded by the woods it gets wild down here. The clearing acts like a tunnel, funneling the wind down and around inside until you're sure it's going to be a tornado. Then suddenly it dies, and everything is so still you swear you can hear dust settling in the Deadzone just thirty-odd or so trees away. I don't know why people won't come here-- it's peaceful, and the spicy scent of the native Lenque trees smooths the air so it feels like silk. With the lantern light flickering around me, I spy a hardy Lenque tree that should keep me fueled for a week. As I hack at it with precision strokes, I keep an ear out for any unwelcome noises. Sometimes the boys from town get a bit too drunk and find their way out here for some "fun", and the wildlife can get a little too close for comfort as well. So while it is relatively safe out here, you're only as safe as you are anyplace else. I'm just about finished when I hear my name being called from a good distance away. Now I'm worried-- I'm the village healer, you see, so if somebody comes for me, it's usually pretty serious. I leave my wood and head for the lights I can see flickering through the trees now. Calling back, I rush towards them at full speed. The wind is cold and the scent isn't that good anymore as I get nearer; I can smell our native petroleum on the invisible air currents, plus a string of fear. Oh, Gods-- not another mining accident! The last one took a lot out of me-- I don't know if I can give enough this time to really heal anybody if that's the case. The nearer I get, the more the stench of the petroleum mines chokes the night air's cleanliness. I can see a face now-- its Lazarus Hodgkins, head of the miners and the town's mayor. He's still dirty from his day's work and he's got a face on grim enough to almost deny the worry in his eyes. Lantern swinging, he breaks into a full run when he sees me dashing towards him. I don't like this one bit, especially since he never comes to me unless it's life or death. "Saskia!" he shouts over the wind that roars to life, funneling through the trees, "Thank God I found you!" He clutches his flannel shirt, barely enough against this kind of wind, to his chest as he holds his lantern up high. He grabs my hand and pulls me along towards his house at the edge of town. I allow him to lead me through the maze of Lenque and Rorquk trees, the wind a noisy predator at our heels. "What's wrong?" I yell at his back, trying to get a feel for what I'll need to send Maggie (his wife) or Lonnie (his daughter) out to my house for. He manages to get his voice over the din: "We have some visitors in town-- it's those Excalibur people who were here before! They were on their way back to Babylon 5, and stopped here to drop off some supplies when a visit to the mines turned to shit on us! Seems one of the trappings was loose and a whole section of the mine collapsed on us. We've got two dead, five are injured, and there's three more missing! At least SO FAR! "Their doctor is doing everything she can, but she needs help. A couple of their crewmembers got caught in the shift and one of 'em is severely injured. We need your help in findin' the other three as well!" "Where's Alwyn when ya need 'im?!" "We don't know- we were kinda hopin' you could answer that one!" "Beats me!" "Aw, shit-- another one!" We've just hit the edge of town, which is alight with torches. People are everywhere, helping in the effort to calm and to comfort, or to help in the rescue and treatment efforts. But there are two figures that catch my eye: a dark, hooded techno-mage, and another, far off in the corner of vision, too indistinct to be anybody but my worst nightmare. Lazarus points only to the techno-mage. "Don't you mean, 'Aw, fuck'?" I reply grimly, pointing out the other figure standing away from the crowd, unnoticed but by us two on-lookers. Laz follows my gaze in the proffered direction. His face sets into a determined hardness unlike anything but death-- cold hatred brazen like the molten insides of a planet. We exchange glances. I can't help but to swallow hard all my fears and dreams in one hard lump in my throat. Damn-- and I was just getting used to this place! "Don't worry about me-- I'll handle this later. Right now those people are more important," I tell him, meaning every word of it. He looks at me for one more precious second, before we take off, tearing down the hillside like a couple of bats out of hell-- only hell is where we're headed.  
  
"Where the hell is that help I asked for?!" yells a pretty, albeit blood-covered, dark woman across the room. She's tending to a young man who is bleeding all over from God knows how many injuries. "Here!" I yell back, ripping off my cloak as I make my way towards her. She stares at me for one second, and I meet her gaze while I wrap the poor boy's leg with my cloak. He screams, and clutches at me. He stares wildly into my face, but he's so bloody I can't tell who it is. His ragged voice answers for me: "Saskia," he whispers, "Help me!" Then he falls back on his back, his strength spent. He groans horribly. "Gods." I can't believe it: "Harry?" He lets go of my hands. I immediately turn to another young man, this one grotesquely burned and bleeding from a heavy gash on his head: Ren Hildebrand. Gods alive-- I know every one of these poor boys from the mines! Good men-- all of them, undeserving of such a fate as this. I make a silent vow-- not one of these men is going to die on my time-- no sir!! Only-- how much time do I have left to complete my mission before I have to go? For eventually I will be discovered, and then what? Enough! This woman needs my help, and help I am. I will do what I can for these men, and it will have to be enough! * * * * * "Max Eilerson and his assistant are missing," says Mathew Gideon, staring blankly out into the night. He is standing in his "thinking pose", the one where he rests his chin in his hand with his index finger over his mouth. Sarah-- that's the doctor I was helping earlier-- told me I would find him here, standing where he could keep watch on the mines that stole the lives of Harry Duke, Ren Hildebrand, Melvin Casey, Jacques Pierre, and Danny Sunfire just hours ago. I feel for him-- I have gone through this so many times, for so many years. the pain and the memories just never stop. They just go on and on forever. nothing I can do or say will stop that. I admire this man-- he has the courage to do this sort of thing for a job-- I can only stand by and help those that I can. He reaches so many more than I ever could hope to. "What can I do?" Now, why the hell did I offer that? I have never before offered my services to anyone! Why did I do that? Great, now I am really in for it. "There is nothing you can do," he says. He surprises me, this Captain Gideon-- he does and says things that I would never expect of people. I think that it is because of this that I offer more-- perhaps more than I can come up with, but I have to try, I think, for the times that I cannot and will not be there to help when he may need me. I take a deep breath. Gods alive, I hope I know what I'm doing! "Yes, there is," I say. He turns around to look at me. His face is unshaven and his eyes make him look older than I suppose he is. He looks like a man who has many demons, but hopes that someday there will be a time and a place and a person to dispel them. He breaks my heart, this Captain Mathew Gideon, with his hope that I have lost in the years. "What can you do?" he asks, "What can you do that I haven't already tried?" Good question-- but one I am fair nigh to unwilling to answer. "I'll look into it," I finally answer. He doesn't like what I've said, I can tell, but he's the type who will use any means necessary to get his crew home safe. He stares hard at me, blinking-- how much sleep has this man lost over the years? How many more hours will he lose in the future? How many of those hours are going to be my fault? "Whatever," he says, turning away. I guess it's time I go, so I turn to leave. "Saskia." I stop, and twist to look back at him. He's still staring out the window-- I wonder if he has the strength to endure this. "Bring my crewmen back alive?" I sigh. "I hope. that I can." I will try-- I hope that I succeed. Now I turn to go, finally able to walk out the door to the awaiting hell before me. I almost prefer this, you know-- this nightmare I'm about to face; I know what to expect from it. I've faced it so many times before, and this ultimatum with it has been a long time in coming. I'm about to exit this building entirely when a shadow arrests my movements. Gods alive, NO! It can't be already. Oh, thank the Gods-- it's only that other techno-mage. I wonder what he wants. He's just staring at me-- his gaze is oddly. disconcerting. He's very handsome-- but that could be in another time, another place, just spinning across to us for a while. I can't afford this right now. I wonder if he knows what I can do. I hope to hell not-- he'd kill me on the spot! His kind is unlike mine-- they take and do not give back at all. They are the shadows of things that kill and do harm with no care for others. However, they are human, and so they may easily save each other. Their doings are unwittingly not their own-- I cannot blame them for doing what is not their own will. Someday, though, someday. Blast! I've done it again-- I've gotten distracted when I need my concentration the most! "Good luck," comes a whisper from beside me. I must have jumped, for when I turn to face this mysterious techno-mage, he says "Sorry." I wonder if he truly is. We stare at each other for a moment, but there is no communication unspoken in that gaze. Something tugs at my heart, and I am hard-pressed to ignore it. "Thank you," I answer quietly, and head out to find Lazarus. He'll have some of the equipment that I'll need to search-- I just hope he'll let me use it this one last time. He probably will-- especially because it's my last time. I am never coming back here again-- it's just too dangerous. for them. I can feel the heat of the techno-mage's gaze heavily on my back. I spy Laz, and catch his attention. He weaves his way towards me, and honors me with a grim smile. "We did it, Saskia-- we saved a lot of men and women tonight." I nod, but have no smile to favor him with yet. "I'm going after them-- the lost crewmen from the Excalibur," I tell him. I can tell he doesn't like that one bit, but he keeps his mouth shut-- he knows I'm not finished yet. I have to raise my voice over the wind-- it's been picking up viciously all night long, "There are some things I'll need-- do you know what they are?" He nods solemnly. "You'll have it." I let him see my reaction. "Thank you," I say, and he can read my face well, "I am most grateful. I. may not return, even if the crewmen do. You know that, well, though, don't you?" "I had a gut feeling that may well be the case," he replies smiling, "We'll miss you, though," he adds, sober again, "Thank you for all that you've done." That is a surprise-- and a welcome one at that. My heart is breaking again-- so many people I've left behind like this. "You're welcome. Thank YOU," I manage to reply. When I turn away, I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes. It is night now-- no one will see me in the darkness unless. I let the tears come, and the darkness covers their tracks well enough. The dirt and sweat on my face gives me an excuse for wiping it, so no one need know what emotional torment is wreaking havoc in my heart. I feel as though I am to split apart-- for I leave a special piece of me behind wherever I go, and cannot truly be whole again. For that, I am truly afraid to. Enough! It is time to go to the real work I am meant for. Gods willing, I will make it out in time to be gone before they realize. and he does.. Gods-- just please get me out of here alive, and I'll never set foot on another planet for more than a few days again.  
  
It's dark in here. I'm inside the collapsed mines now-- I have been so for a while. I've lost count of how long I've been down here-- couple of hours, a few days. Certainly not weeks-- not just yet. But then again, when I go at something like this, I tend to work non-stop until long after it's done. I rarely ever sleep then, because it takes so much of me to get up to this point-- where I can do this sort of thing-- that it takes me almost even longer just to come off of it. The dust of this dark, rank hole is everywhere. It settles in my gut, on my dry tongue, in my eyes. The only light comes from my lantern, and even then it's not much. I know there are things down here-- evil things, old things-- that will get to the team before I do. I just hope that they are as resourceful as Gideon said they are. Dr. Chambers seems to think that they'll be okay-- but then again, she seems to be trying to convince herself of that. I could see the look in her eyes when she spoke of a Mister Eilerson-- she's in love with him, I'll bet, and either she hasn't told him or she doesn't realize it. I'd put money on the first. It always amazes me the cramped and tiny places that I can squeeze my body into. I must have been a contortionist in another lifetime. There have been rumblings over my head, and a few times the ground shook, so I can only imagine that this place is caving in all around me. I'll have to work fast and get the team out quicker than I thought. I can hear the whistlings and scratchings of something following me. It isn't a someone; it's a something. My senses tell me that it's near, whatever it is, and I can smell that it's hunting me. They move fast down here, these evil things that crawl in the dark bowels of the earth and soil- - they dart out quick, before you can hear them coming for you...  
  
I must have been down here for about a week, judging from the air. The Excalibur crew should be dead by now, but I made a promise-- even if I have to bring back bodies, I will find them. The thing has grown into many things, coming and going, whistling and scratching, so that I am quite aware of how hopelessly out-numbered I am. Please, I haven't prayed to God in a long time, so it feels weird to be specifically asking Him for something, Please, if it's possible, just let them be alive so that we can get out of here soon. I am not sure if He heard me, if any deity heard my quiet plea for help, but it is a small comfort to know that someone will be listening. I smell something like adrenaline, only more pungent. What is-- OUCH! Without warning, I am slammed against the wall. There is a heavy weight atop of me, crushing the air out of me, when the wall gives way a split second later. I know that I have at least broken ribs if not a fractured arm as well. Oh-- we're in some kind of yellowish glow! Where is it? Where is the thing that attacked me? I look around at the circular walls, only getting a 180 view of it before it jumps me again, sinking thin teeth into my shoulder. I let out no sound from my mouth, though it does HURT. Reacting, simply allowing reflexive action from years of stuff like this, I slam my whole body into the wall. A crunch, and the thing lets go. I can see it now: bulbulous white eyes (no pupils), squat body compact with muscle, needle-thin teeth, huge nostrils but no nose, and the biggest clawed "hands" I've ever seen in my life. I must have done something to its shoulder, or at least the joint that connects the arms and the body, because there is a thick black-blue liquid oozing from an invisible gash. No time-- it strikes again, the only warning a slight flaring of the nostrils. The teeth snap at my face, but I twist, faster than any normal being could. Not fast enough, though; too slow for down here. The thing latches into my chest and stomach-- I crash into the wall again, hearing (and FEELING) my own flesh and bone crunch and tear. I can't move, but I don't have to-- once again, the wall behind me gives way. Falling, I my inbred reflexes turn me in midair. When I land, it is underneath the thing from that darkened tunnel. This time, I believe that it is dead. My Gods, I can barely think through the agony! I look at the deceased heap above me, and I can see my own blood, tissue, and bone protruding through me. Some-well, a lot-is on the entity crushing me. Pain, white-hot pain, wrenches through me. It's a miracle that I'm alive. I guess I should feel lucky. There is screaming! I pick my head up, for that is all I can manage right now. That damned thing still has its jaws stuck in my chest and stomach. But I can't think of that right now-- I have found the Excalibur team! My Gods-- and I've left a trail right to where we are! There are more of those things out there; I'm sure of it-- and worse. We have to get out, right now! I scan the crewmembers that are left alive. Apparently I didn't get here fast enough, for I can see a messy heap on the other side of the roughly circular hollow we've found ourselves in. A middle-aged man in a leather jacket sprints over to help me, but I manage to get that thing off of me before he can reach me. He helps me to stand, supporting me as I am unable to stand at all. Dear Gods-how will I defend us? My Gods, the PAIN. "We were hoping somebody would find us," he says with tinted annoyance, "Looks like that's going to be you. Can you get us out? Hell, forget that. What can I do?" (By now he's helped me over to the others-- about five or six in all, not including the poor heap splattered all over the place.) I look at him, then at the others. "Yes," I nod brusquely. I sit down on an obliging boulder, and examine my leg as the man inspects my shoulder. "I'm Max Eilerson," he says belatedly. "Saskia," I reply detachedly, but now I know how to repay the doctor a bit for all she's done for my friends. I stop a moment, and grab his hand, which has been probing one of the gashes, causing no amount of unhindered agony. I look him straight in the eye. "I'm going to get you home," I say through gritted teeth, and he nods, so I nod too and go back to my leg. I think he knew what I meant. "How?" somebody asks. I look up, taken a bit off guard. There's a young oriental man with an IPX logo on his shirt and cap standing to my left. Two women about the same age stand behind him, peering over his shoulders. Behind them, I can see another young man-- this one your ideal beach-boy- being tended to by an older woman. Her hair is still reddish brown, and her ministerings to the injured guy are deft and gentle. "So? How the bloody hells to you intend to get us out of here?" Ah-- it is the oriental man who is talking to me. Or rather, yelling would be the more appropriate term. "The same way I got in," I reply heatedly. (I don't get the feeling that he's taking this very well.) He snorts at that. "Only this time, I know what to look for." My answer obviously isn't what he wanted to hear, but he stays silent. Screw you too, buddy. He turns, and putting an arm around each girl, they all sit down on the ground and huddle together. I'll rephrase that later. About thirty minutes later, I'm wrapped in bandages, and there have been no other attacks. I count that as extremely lucky... or a trap. I'm injured badly-- I hurt all over-- but we're going to move out now, and I have to be on my guard. I turn to Max, who administered to my wounds himself: "If I don't make it all the way, I want you to find the man called Lazarus. Tell him that everything that I own goes to him and his family. Tell him there'll be a sealed envelope under my mattress, and that it goes to my teacher. He'll know what to do." He nods solemnly-- I believe there is more to this man than meets the eye. (I can see what made the good doctor fall for him.) Then we're on our way. Back through those winding damned tunnels we go. I know my way now, but I have no idea how long we'll last. The young Earthforce soldier and I are each injured, and the rest don't have any combat experience. Except for the older woman and Max, I'm the only one with any knowledge of how to fight. I can smell the other beings down here. Now that I know what to sense for, I'm on good alert. The reek is indescribable! Another rush of adrenaline and that funky smell are my only warnings before all hell breaks loose. The screaming starts from the two younger girls in the back: screams of pain and panic and every nasty feeling in existence. My heart sinks because I know I can't reach them in time. It's some split-second later when the young IPX idiot and I both react. Springing from Max's support, I let my momentum carry me into the fray. I can't see what has them, but they're half-in and being dragged further into a hole in the tunnel. I can't see a damned thing behind them. I get hold of one of the girls' jackets. She clings to me and claws for a grip on anything that will keep her from being captured; the young man has hold of the other one. Pulling with all my might, my injured muscles are no match for the underground dwellers. She sinks further into the earth around us. One last heave-ho gains me some ground of my own. Her voice is so harsh and panicked. My God! Her legs are being chewed off! I can't hold out much longer. She looks wildly into my eyes, and I can only stare and hold onto her for all I was ever worth. Through clenched teeth, she says to me: "It's all right. just let me. go!" And she looses her clench. I can't let go. I can't let go. I can't. She pries my fingers off herself and disappears with a SHWOOSH into the earth around me, tiny scufflings rapidly moving away. The reek and adrenaline let up, and I am pounded with the smells of mixed emotions. Then the pain hits me, and I let go of consciousness. I come to in Max's arms. My body throbs with agony, but I have been well trained to just accept it. I must think through it and get us out of here. "So, you're awake." It is a statement, nothing more. I look Max in the eyes, and nod. I fear that if I speak, I may loose what control I have over myself. As it is, I still have to find the reserves to go on. After all, I made a promise. "Let's go," I say after a moment, and we stumble to our feet. Max's shirt is in shreds, most of it wrapped around my wounds. Some of his pants are gone as well, and I can see parts of them done up on the oriental idiot's leg. He (the idiot) has lost his arrogance after all-now he hangs his head solemnly, and toils on, most of his left foot gone. The older woman is still with us, as is the other injured young man. They're just boys-barely out of college, caught up by the corporate games, looking to demand respect. I pray for the souls of those two unfortunate young girls, and hope that the Gods of Karma are good to them. Sleep well, kids. I hope that I see you in a better life than this one. There are times when I just can't handle this, I think, but something always keeps me going. I don't know what it is, but it has something to do with the way those girls died- that one especially, who knew. she had to. I can't pull this off much longer. "I hope we're near the surface," says Max, interrupting my thoughts of self- pity. A bit startled, I look at him. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead of us, scanning, turned down a bit. I pull my gaze to our surroundings, what little I can see of them for the sweat and blood that drip into my eyes every few seconds. "I know," I say finally. He is silent for a while. Then: "I didn't let her answer." "What?" "I asked her to wait for me, at the mouth of the caves. I wonder if she'll be there if we get out." Ah, the doctor then-Sarah Chambers. "She will." "I hope." "I know," I tell him forcefully. He just looks at me. "You love her, don't you?" I ask him, trying to look ahead. It is hard to forget my pain- it cuts through me sharper than any knife I have ever known, dangerously blurring my vision. I can feel the dirt and infection settling in. I'm going to need some serious healing when I get back. if I can afford the time to do it. I hope so! "Yes." Something in his voice. Without warning, the ground beneath me gives way. Max lunges for me, grappling for hold in the slippery dirt. The earth closes around us. we're falling. HOLY SHIT! "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" We HAVE stopped falling, but Gods my damn body hurts. Somehow, Max has found a hold in the ground. he never let go of me for a second. "Well," I say, "I guess this gives new meaning to the words 'falling' in love!" Despite the pain, despite our environment and situation, we find the cheer to laugh. Our moment of relief is brief, cut short by a low growl. I smell.! OH SHIT!!! What creatures meet my gaze as I look downwards! Out of the blackness, I can sense them crawling, scratching, scrabbling beneath us. If we had fallen just a few inches more, it would've been good-bye for sure! But in their ever-increasing boldness and greed for food, those THINGS are somehow getting nearer. "YOWCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Max hauls me up with an audible crack of bone and gasp of pain. He holds me tightly against him with what strength he has left. His legs are bleeding, or maybe his side, as I can feel something wet and sticky trickling onto my body. His handsome face is almost unrecognizable now; it is so covered with dirt and blood. Audibly grinding his teeth, face set in tight lines and muscles, Max refuses to let go of me. With a searing pain, I manage to lift my arms and take hold of the small ledge his quick fingers had found. It is not enough, though, for I cannot hold my own weight without Max's support. "Now who's saving who?" I quip through gritted teeth. "If you figure that one out, let me know," he is quick to grate out, "Later. Right now let's just focus on NOT getting ourselves killed!" I raise my eyebrows, grateful for the momentary distraction from the pain. "ARE YOU TWO ALL RIGHT?" The well-meant shout reverberates through the chamber Max and I have fallen into. It's amplified loudly, setting our ears to ringing. Squinting as though it would help dispel our mutual torture, Max and I play mental Rock-Scissors-Paper. I lose. "DEPENDS ON YOUR DEFINITION OF 'ALL RIGHT'!" I holler, "CAN YOU GET US OUT?" There is a rustling that seems to come from above. A feeble beam of light follows our disastrous path down, coming to rest on the top of our heads. We haven't really fallen as far as I had feared-only about a dozen to fifteen feet. I can see the one IPX man and the lady above us. The light disappears, and I can hear the echoes of cloth ripping in the deathly silence that prevails this earthy death-trap. I wonder if this will be my grave. "Ow," I hear Max say softly, and then he. laughs! What in the. Oh my Gods- those people made a rope for us. out of their clothing! "It hit me in the head," says Max through laughter and coughing for the pain. I manage a weak chuckle. "You go first," I tell him, formulating a plan, nodding up with my head. He glances up, then back at me. He grasps the rope then, and surprises me by tying it around my waist. "Just in case," he says, his voice smirking but his eyes deadly serious. We exchange looks, and he screws up his face as he reaches upwards. Grasping the rope with both hands, he slowly pulls himself up. I can only imagine his pain-I know that some of his ribs are broken, or maybe a wrist. I can't tell for certain until I can examine him atop. Doc Chambers is going to have a field day setting him right. and I don't think that Max will complain, either. much. He tries with half-success not to scream as the lady and IPX guy haul him to the top. Once I am sure that he is safely atop our almost-grave, I manage, cursing and swearing through the pain, to reach the emergency flares I keep hidden in the back of my belt. I pull out two of them, and set them off. A squealing akin to pigs at slaughter floats up towards me from below. There is much thumping and scratching as those evil bastards try to scramble away from the light that is so short-lived (they only last about thirty seconds each). I throw the flares below me, and turn my face upwards. Breathing heavily, grunting with the exertion, I follow Max. Sharp, cutting, near blinding pains wrench through me. My head swims, and for a moment I am afraid that I have lost my grip, and am falling into the abyss of darkness below me. But no; vertigo loses its hold on me, and I continue climbing once more. Pain by pain, I make my tedious procession to the top. and then I am there, being hauled to relative safety. We sit and stare at each other for a few moments. I bind up Max's legs and chest-he did break, or at least bruise-some ribs. Most of his pants and those of the younger IPX guy (the one the lady was attending to) are now mostly gone. The Mr. Idiot is in the same predicament. Scratched and bleeding, I still refuse any more of our rudimentary treatment... for there is nothing more that can be done for me unless I get professional help. and only if I can get there in time, at that. Silence prevails on our little remaining group.  
  
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I don't think that the blonde man is going to make it. The poor guy-lady has done all she can, but he's too weak. I think that he knows it, too- he'll never walk again, not unless they get rid of the infection in his legs and arms. We've done all we can, but he just can't go on. I half- hobble, half-drag myself over to him, and slowly ease my abused body to the ground beside his resting-place. I do believe that this will become his gravesite. I stare at his youthful features, trying not to memorize them, but to remember them-I'll need to I.D. him for Captain Gideon later on. He is so surreal in slumber; I watch his chest rise and fall with his pale hands folded mummy-like on his stomach. I can see the glowing shadow of his life essence, and pray that it may be released into another, better Karma. Strange, how unattached I've become to death. His eyes flutter open slowly. In the dull light from a makeshift torch (courtesy of lady's socks), his eyes are an arresting, unnatural dark green. They glitter with fever, and he does not recognize me; the infection has worked it poisons quickly. In an action directed by some god, I reach out a bloodless, bandaged hand to grace his cheek. I avoid his nose, as it is swollen to the point where it is but a lump not unlike a potato. He raises his eyebrows as he speaks: "Mom?" My brow furrows; I feel like crying, but will not allow the tears to fall. He says it louder this time: "Mom?" "Yes, dear?" I try to sooth him, but he grabs hold of my damaged hand. A small breathy squeak escapes me. "Mom-I'm gonna die here, Mom." (A deep breath, to calm my racing heart.) "I know, dear. I know." "Please take care of me, Mom." He is begging with an illusion; some other woman's face his darkened mind has plastered on mine. The knowledge is bittersweet, and hard to swallow. "Don't let them eat me, Mom," he is trying to scream, but has not enough air nor strength, "Don't let them get to me. Mom!" Lady comes and stands behind me. "Don't forget me, Mom! Don't let them eat me. the others, Mom, you need to find them. Get them out, Mom, save them. I love you, Mom." He shakes and chokes, "Mom, (choke) Mom. (choke) Mom!" Chokes or sobs, either one keeps him from finishing his last thought to anyone but me. The warm faces; the holidays together; the loving people-I will remember them all, just for him. My present to his dead soul. Grief strikes me then, and I stumble to my feet. I must've managed to choke out something intelligible, because everyone obeys me and we're moving again. My soul is bursting with this sorrow, this horrible truth of life that must happen every day in order for the rest of us to move and more of us to come along on the path but-Christ on a crutch, did it have to be him? And why me? What does it have to end this way for him? Better luck next time, kiddo, and better karma too. Be good to him girls-help him out up there! I have no more strength to do this. I am done for; finished up. Opened, used, found to be wanting; discarded. Yeah, better luck next time. I have no more tears to fall. I am done for. The end; kuhplewee; goodbye; chow. I am never going to make it out of this mine alive in my soul. I am going to die soon. But promises first.  
  
I have no idea how long or how far we've traveled. I don't care, either; I just want this bullshit done and over with as soon as possible. I feel. aw, hell, I don't feel anything anymore. I'm just numb inside. Max is not doing too hot either. He's leaning on me for support, fat lot of good it's doing him, and his skin is cold but clammy. We're all of us too tired to be doing anybody any good, but we can't stop. I watch the tunnel appearing in front of us in the weak torchlight, alert for rustlings in the darkness. The torch flickers; I hear a thud followed by a small yelp/gasp behind us. Just as we begin to turn, our companions fall on us. We crash to the ground in a painful heap. "I don't care whose fault this is," I say, "But get off me." "It was mine, dear," comes the voice of all my worst fears behind us. I know a moment of panic before the coldest chill that has ever numbed me freezes my body. Time stops. A shadow-a man-steps out from the darkness that surround us, taking us over as the torch-light flutters with half a life on the ground beside me. "Who the hell is that?" Max whispers in my ear. I can't answer him; my voice doesn't want to work. Feelings return in a rush-anger among them. He wears a hooded cloak, this man, this. creature I have loathed and feared. His dark hair is longer than I remember-long enough for a ponytail. His eyes glitter menacingly in the dark bowels of this planet. He wears black gloves-that's new, too. "I have been waiting for you, darling," he says calmly to me, "I have been following you for some time. You always managed to elude me. but not this time." "Do you think we could jump him?" Lady whispers to me. The Mr. Idiot responds to that for me. "You think we have the energy?" he whispers back furiously. Perhaps he isn't such an idiot after all. Ah-my mind is unfrozen. Good; I can think clearly. First order of business: kick his ass. Instincts will take over from here on in, so I probably won't remember much... on the other hand, maybe Mother Nature will take care of things. There is rumbling near-by that just can't be our stomachs... This bastard enemy of mine doesn't seem to notice. Cocky asshole-always did have too much faith in himself; never paid attention in Geography. The earth around us shutters violently, renting the space of blackness between us and him with a great force. The ground shatters, splitting open. We're sitting though; _he_ is standing. Not a smart man. He stumbles, and we simultaneously decide to run for it. The last thing I remember before instincts took over was my enemy screaming his rage at the Mother Earth as he fell into her abysmal womb of the planet.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Rocks... nothing but rocks... everywhere. The earthquake has separated us from my (temporarily) fallen foe by a wall of rocks, and has us trapped by blocking all of the "exits" with more rocks. We work through the pain that threatens to tear us apart, we three survivors of the earth. I have no idea now how far or close we are to the surface... all we can do now is just keep going and hope for the best. Huh- hope; I suppose we have hope, if only because it's the only thing that nobody knows how to kill yet. Ack, dammit, I've found another reason for living! We are quiet as we toil on, trying to dislodge some of the rocks. We all had been buried by the quake, lady taking the worst of the damage. I know that I can go on like this, only because I've been through worse and come out alive... well, physically, at least. The others... Max will, I know; Idiot might, but I don't know about Lady. She ain't breathing right, and too many of her bones were crushed, including, I believe, some ribs. It is too hard for her to lift the rocks-hell, she can barely sit up, and here she is trying to at least roll the ones we've already dislodged out of the way. Brave woman... I hope she makes it. I really do. Dammit, there I go again, hoping. Max is not looking too good. Ack, _hell_, ain't none of us lookin' none too good right now. He's gray in the face, and I can smell his adrenaline. If he isn't careful, he could have a heart attack. I sniff the air again; I smell water. The underground river! The Ulysses! I sigh with relief, leaning my head against the wall of fallen rock. It sways under my weight; Max, Idiot, and Lady watching me curiously. I open my eyes, and meet Max's gaze. "Water," I explain smiling for the first time in a long time. He doesn't react facially to that, but Idiot starts right back into digging with a bit more fervor than before. It's not much-we're too exhausted for that-but enough so that a few minutes later, the wall of rock crashes down in front of us... And down the side of an underground ravine, complete with a raging river at the bottom. Typical! How the bloody hell are we supposed to proceed now? The others look down at the bottom of the ravine, Lady leaning on Idiot and Max and I resting against each other. They all look at me. Jesus, what the hell did _I_ do? "Hey," I manage to find the strength and will to be righteously annoyed, "I said I smelled water. I didn't say that I smelled a ravine!" They're nonplussed, and look down at the river again. A glimmering of an idea begins to form in my mind. The village gets its power by using hydro electronics. The Ulysses gives them that power. They run cables underground to the hydro-wheels, which generate power to the power station, which is then transferred to the homes in the village. Cheap, effective... and going to save our lives. In two ways: one, we can use the cables to send an S. O. S. message and two, we can also follow the cables to the hydro-wheels. Then we can use the maintenance walkway to reach the other side of the Ulysses Ravine. "Okay," I say to the rest of the group, who have taken respite leaning against the rocks, "I've got a plan." They look at me, fatigue and pain making it difficult for them to focus. "We've also got a choice," at least, I think we do. "This is the Ulysses Ravine, named after that river you can see at the bottom. The village runs cables to hydro-wheels, which are probably about maybe six miles that way (I point upstream). The hydro-wheels give the village its electricity. We can find the cables, which are buried, and use them to send an S. O. S. to the village by cutting them open and hotwiring the system," I'm out of breath from my talk, but I am satisfied that my plan will work. "But will anyone get the distress call?" Lady is _curious_; not skeptical, wary, or even annoyed. I look at all of them; so damn dependant on me. Why the heck did I put myself up to this in the first place? Ack, promises, promises. "Nobody will be able to _miss_ our message: the whole bloody damn village will be blinking on and off. We can then follow the cables, which won't be hard to find, to the hydro-wheels." The group nods, too distracted by pain and weariness and hope to care that they're synchronized. "We can then follow the cables to the maintenance walkway for the hydro-wheels, where we can cross to the other side. That is, *if* it hasn't collapsed again in the earthquake. We'll have to see. After that, it should be only about a mile or so to the surface." "And what's our choice?" Idiot sounds annoyed. _Well, dammit boy, I ain't perfect. Stop being so damn picky all the time._ No wonder he's still on the lower rung of the corporate ladder! His superiors probably think he's an ass too! "Our choice," I say with a pause, "Is we can either stay here and get some sleep, risking getting eaten by those _things_... or we can get up and get going now, and be harder to hit on the move. It's up to you." I do believe that's the most I've spoken the entire time I've been in service to these people. I drag in the air that is so difficult for me to inhale. That's not a good sign; I must have done something to my lungs again. I have to be careful about that-about two years ago, I accidentally inhaled poisonous gas while rescuing a great friend of mine. While the mission was a success, my lungs have been... unreliable at times. "Well," Max says with a sigh; we look at him, and he meets me straight in the eye, "We should get a move-on then." "Just who the hell do you think you are?" Idiot apparently does not like Mr. Eilerson's opinion, and is quick to object. Max is equally quick to respond: "I'm your superior officer, that's who," he snaps, "I make the judgment calls for the team, and you are _my_ assistants..." "Screw you and your orders!" Idiot cries, "The whole ship knows that you're a selfish bastard who's only out to make a profit! Hell, even your wife couldn't stand you-that's why she left you! You are not fit to give us orders!" Max goes quiet and shuttered at the mention of his wife. I can sense that Idiot's words about how the Excalibur must sometimes think of him hurts him... but also that he _wants_ them to think that about him. Ah, that way he doesn't get hurt again, like his ex-wife must have... I'm picking up images from him: an attractive woman, green eyes sparkling, rust- gold hair shimmering, laughing up at him... screaming at him... leaving a note on the table for him to find in the morning when he woke from falling asleep at his computer again... Cynthia... I blink several times to clear my aching head. "You have no right to say that," Max says quietly and calmly, and I can see the killer that lives just underneath the surface in him; the coldness that helped him to climb the corporate ladder. Idiot snorts, refusing to believe that. Max gazes coolly and tranquilly at him. "Mister Saito," he says in that low voice again, "Back down. I won't tell Gideon of this, simply because I know that the stress of the situation is just too much for you to deal with. Miss Saskia and I are the only ones fit enough and in command of this... expedition. "A moving target is harder to hit," he goes on to say now, trying to reach Idiot, ahem, Mister Saito, on a more reasonable level. I hope he succeeds; I need these people to trust me implicitly in case I'm wrong about the walkway... I hope I'm right. "It'll be much harder for them to attack us if we stay together and keep going," Max has finished his piece, and is giving Saito a chance to digest sanity (what little there is left in the world, a bit of it must belong to Max Eilerson!) and respond in kind. Saito nods, his arm around Lady. Lady looks up, her arms wrapped around her body and resting in the crook of Saito's body. She gives a tiny nod, brown eyes grave and comprehending.  
  
"Do you _really_ think this is going to work?" Max whispers to me as he holds the covering of the cable open for me. I pause, the two wires I need in either hand, holding them apart. I look at him, and I know my eyes are bloodshot and grimy; probably bruised as well. He nods, and lowers his gaze; he knows as well as I do that our fate is uncertain. I need not be the one to tell him so. But he does not see the shadows that flit across my mind, nor the torment that I am in. If there is one thing I have learned about my job, it is that the client shall not and never should see any pain the employee is in. That is why, when I begin to send the S.O.S. signal, I pray harder than perhaps I have the right to. I only know one thing for certain: if Max does not make it out of these mines alive, then neither shall I. I promised. I glance over at Mr. Saito and Lady. Her breathing is better, but still not where it should be. Saito has found a small spring that trickles down the side of the ravine and into the Ulysses, and Lady is drinking from his cupped hands. I catch Max's eye, and incline my head in their direction. "What's up with him?" I ask. I need to know if there could be any more mutiny; such a rebellion could cost lives. I curse myself for not thinking of it earlier. Max gives a faint snort, before lowering his gaze to the cable, not really seeing it. "He and I were both in line for the same promotion," Max whispers as Saito drinks greedily from the spring, washing his hands and face. "He had done everything he could: cheating, lying, grunt work, sucking-up... and I got the promotion. He was furious," Max continues, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, "I had not done a single shady thing to get to the next rung on the corporate ladder, and he had. "My ex-wife, Cynthia, was his ex-step cousin. I know it's a far cry from family, but Saito is very possessive, and when I started dating her, he hated it. He sent us a bouquet of dead roses for our wedding present." I glance sharply at Saito then, and see that he is not bothering with Lady anymore. She has her eyes closed-most likely in pain-and there he sits, trying to clean his uniform. Yea gods save us all! "He's a pig," I say with venom, before I can stop myself. Max nods, his eyes earnest. He has very nice, blue eyes. "If he hates you so much..." "He's also the best in his field," Max interrupts me, answering the question I had started to ask; "When Earth was... poisoned... he was on the ANGELIQUE, the pride and joy of IPX. He was called to serve on the EXCALIBUR then, because he is the best, and up until the cave-in we have been able to put our differences aside. For the most part, anyway." I quirk my lips grimly at that correction, sending the signal that will hopefully save our lives. Sparks fly in a miniature fireworks display, but Max and I never wince. I think to myself that Doctor Chambers has picked a very good man, indeed. Perhaps a mildly troubled one, but she is a good woman; she will heal him and love him well. "I'm going to get you out of here, Max," I tell him again. He and I look at each other, our eyes solemn and fiercely true. He nods, this Max Eilerson who has saved my life. Gods of Karma, here me well: Max Eilerson is going to make it out of these godforsaken mines alive, and don't try to stop me!  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE... this is NOT finished, obviously. Here's what I need help with... should I have only Max and Saskia make it out? Should I have everyone make it out alive? Does Saskia go back into the mines after she gets Max out? Who should die and who should live? YOU VOTE. Also... how does that prophecy of Alwyn's hold true for Saskia? Mwa-ha-ha-ha!..... Just checking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! R/R if you please; and if you must flame, then be professional about it and make CONSTRUCTIVE (key word: CONSTRUCTIVE) criticism. For unprofessional flamers will have their flames spoon-fed back to them. Thank you, folks, and have a nice day... night... afternoon... whatever it happens to be for you. 


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